SNIX
by MGMK
Summary: Reader request fic..."The next time you call me I expect you be… affianced."


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Summary:**Another reader request fic. (Apologies in advance for the lack of creativity on my part though.)

**Author's Note:**Thanks to my Beta for helping me with this

**Weird Random Author's Note:** Completely random thought not related to this story in any way: I have this irrational fear that my significant other is going to name our child Ted. Never mind that we haven't even had the "kids" discussion (or, you know, not _the _discussion), or the fact that there's a 50% chance we will have a girl first time out. No, my mind has fixated on the idea that when/if we have a kid it will be a boy and my wife will want to name him Ted and I'll freak out because the only Teds that ever come to mind are serial killers and home-bred terrorists. My brain is a scary place.

* * *

Sam picks up on the second ring, "'_lo_?"

"Tell me I'm not an idiot for wanting to do this."

Sam snorts, "You're _not an idiot for wanting to do this. In fact, you're only an idiot for waiting so long to do this_."

Santana lets out a deep breath, pressing her body back against the brick wall in her office, "I don't believe you."

"_Come on, Santana. You've got this in the bag. Plus, why would I lie to you, huh? I've never lied to you before_."

Santana's lips quirk up, "Barring that one time you had that sex dream about Kurt, you mean."

Sam groans and she can almost hear him rolling his eyes. She's trained her friends well. "_For the millionth time, I was _  
_not saying Kurt. I was saying Court. As in Courtney Love_," Sam says pointedly.

"See, now I_ know_you're lying. Who would have a sex dream about Courtney Love? I mean, maybe Kurt Cobain," she trails off into an exaggerated gasp. "You were dreaming about him weren't you?"

Sam stays quiet for a minute. "_I hope Brittany laughs in your face_."

"You take that back Sam Evans," she says thoroughly panicking. Her throat closes up. "Take it back."

"_Relax. I'm kidding_," Sam placates her, ever aware of her anxious tone. "_Go get your girl, Santana_," he says, keeping his voice quiet. "_The next time you call me I expect you be… affianced_."

Santana rolls her eyes, "Stop watching Disney movies."

* * *

Santana checks her watch nervously, and even though she has ample time until showtime, she still feels like everything is moving in slow motion.

She just wants everything to be done now, this instant, so that she can be assured the evening will go perfectly and so that this anxious churning of her stomach with cease.

"How's that salad coming along, Bruno?"

"Excellently, Miss Santana," the sous chef replies, julienning a sweet red pepper with graceful ease. He wiggles his thick eyebrows at her, grinning, "You're nervous, no?"

She offers him a crooked smile, and normally she'd never admit it to anyone, much less a member of her cooking staff, but she shrugs shyly, murmuring, "A little."

"Do not be nervous Miss Santana," Bruno assures her, waving his chopping knife around dramatically like he tends to do, "Miss Brittany loves you very much. Remember? She bought you that personal device, did she not?"

Santana's eyes widen, never accustomed to Bruno's foreign way of wording things, "It's called an iPad and I said it was for personal _use_."

Bruno frowns, "This is what I said."

"Finish the salad, Bruno."

* * *

It takes another hour and a half but everything's finally ready, the four course meal, the band...everything's all set to go for their special evening except...

"Where's Brittany?" Santana asks (well, more like barks at) Danielle, her hostess.

The young woman mutes the headset she's wearing, muttering a quick _one moment please_to whomever's on the line. "She hasn't come in yet, Miss Lopez," Danielle informs her quietly, used to her boss' blustery personality.

"Obviously," Santana grits out, rolling her eyes, "Did she call?"

"No, she hasn't called," Danielle says confidently, not even bothering to check her log book.

Santana bites her lip, "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I've logged every call in or out since we've opened and Miss Pierce hasn't called in. Would you like me dial her up?"

"No," Santana shakes her head absently, her mind going a mile a minute, "If she's on her way, she'll be driving and I don't want to risk her driving while talking on the phone."

"If I hear anything, I'll let you know right away, okay?" Danielle says, her hand already reaching for her headset.

"As soon as you hear anything," Santana nods, walking away slowly and taking a deep calming breath.

_Soon _she thinks as Danielle takes another call.

* * *

Twenty minutes later and she's just about hanging from the ceiling.

The salad has been remade fresh and the lobster bisque is still being warmed and Brittany is still a.w.o.l.

"Good evening, you've reached _Snix_. How may I assist you this evening?" Danielle fires off her cordial greeting by rote, shaking her head as Santana looks over at her hopefully.

Santana blows out a deep breath, unbuttoning another button on her shirt as she strolls heavily to the bar, tapping the dark cherry wood surface with two fingers until Luc, her tender, slides over gracefully, charming smile already in place as he wipes an already clean lowball glass for appearances,"What's the matter, Boss? You look downer than a Louisiana crawfish facing the boiling brine."

Santana shakes her head slowly, forever marvelling at Luc's ability to not only pinpoint her mood but also wrap it around some arbitrary Southem simile, "Nothing Luc," she says with a tight smile and he stares right at her until she cracks. "Just a little nervous," she finally spills and Luc reaches underneath the bar where he keeps the best stuff.

"'Bout that Brittany gul?" he asks, even though he knows the answer and Santana nods by rote, sure he's about to go into another one of his rambling rants - ones that make him sound like he's fresh off a farm somewhere. Her patrons love it and - though she's loathe to admit it - she kind of loves it too.

"Aw shoot, I wouldn't worry my thinker none over that gul. She's about as in to you as a bullfrog's into a trash pile on sunny day and you's about the same and you can't be that with a stick. Take it from ole' Luc. You two gon' be mighty fine," he says, filling up her glass with an unmarked bottle. "Just drink a little of that there to get you some Creole confidence and we'll be toastin' to you later."

"You know," Santana says, taking a wary sip of her drink with a small smile, "I never understand half of what you say but it always makes me feel better."

Luc winks. "It's the accent," he says coyly, barking out his short, rolling laugh, "Now, git, I gots _paying _customers to tend to."

* * *

Santana's gone over the books three times - she's in the black, thank you very much - before there's a hesitant knock on her office door, Danielle sticking her head inside immediately after.

"Miss Brittany has arrived, Miss Lopez. Shall I seat her at your usual table?"

"No," Santana says with a slowly growing smile, her hand already rustling through her desk drawer, "Keep her at the door and have Bruno prep the first course. I'll be right out."

* * *

Brittany's covered in mud.

That's the first thing Santana notices when she reaches the hostess' counter, her suit and shirt back in place.

The second thing is how radiantly gorgeous her girlfriend still manages to look even while covered in drying clumps of gray gook.  
She'd be unbearably jealous if she weren't tappin' that.

"Britt?" she asks, her girl still engaged in rapt conversation with one of Santana's more frequent patrons, but upon hearing Santana's voice she turns around, a glowing smile already in place on a mud-smeared face.

"Hey Baby," Brittany breathes, moving forward for a hug but stopping herself when she seems to realize her appearance. "Sorry," she shrugs, letting her hands awkwardly fall back to her sides, "Jonny and I got a little carried away with our latest piece and then there was this small kiln explosion-"

"What?" Santana interrupts, eyes filling with concern, "Are you okay? You aren't hurt are you."

"No," Brittany assures her with a gentle smile, "But, I didn't really have time to go home and change as you can tell. If you want I can run over to Quinn's real quick and get something-"

"No," Sanyana interrupts again, reaching out and grabbing Brittany's wildly gesturing hands, "Don't go anywhere. You look perfect just the way you are."

Brittany giggles, her face reddening slightly as Santana pulls her closer. "You're delusional."

"No," Santana says, nuzzling their noses together, ignoring the caked up clay flaking onto her suit, as she presses her lips to Brittany's, "Just crazy in love."

* * *

The restaurant patrons chatter quietly around them, some with curious looks in their direction, but with Santana's face plastered on the back of every menu, she's fairly certain none of them would ever hazard interrupting them tonight.

"So," Brittany says, settling in across from her, draping her napkin across her lap, "What are we having tonight?"

Santana raises her hand, getting Julian's - a member of her wait staff - attention and he hustles over, skirting between table after table.

"I prepared a special menu for us tonight," Santana grins, "All of your favorites, Bruno-style of course."

"Aww babe," Brittany murmurs, reaching across to tangle her fingers with Santana's free hand.

"Good evening ladies," Julian says with his usual flair, "How can I be of service this evening?"

"Stop digging for tips and bring us our food, boy," Santana says with an easy smile and Julian spins smoothly on the spot, heading in the direction of the kitchen. "And stop ogling, Britt," she adds when he turns around a little.

Brittany laughs loudly, watching Julian raise a sapre menu to cover his face, playing along, "Aw, leave him alone."

"His little crush on you is infuriating," Santana grumbles playfully, raising Brittany's now clay-free hand to her lips quickly, "I'd fire him if I wasn't sure half the old bitties that visit this place regularly wouldn't keel over and die over it. Plus, it's not like I can _blame _him. You are unbearably cute."

Brittany grins. "You're biased, though," she says, sipping at the water in her glass as Julian returns, setting the plate down in front of Brittany and Santana watches her eyes follow the movement, watches them grow wide in recognition.

"Jungle salad? No way," Brittany says, abandoning Santana's hand in favor of her salad fork, "How'd you...when'd you?"

Santana shrugs, "It's been a while, yeah?"

Brittany takes a bite, her eyes rolling to the back of her head with the richness of it all. "I love you so friggin' much right now."

"That's your salad addiction talking," Santana laughs, her own fork merely pushing her food around as she watches Brittany lovingly.

"Maybe," Brittany nods, mumbling around another mouthful, "But my heart's got a say too."

Santana's smile turn warmer, "I sure hope so."

* * *

Two courses later - all Brittany's favorites and one-time dishes at _Snix_- Brittany's reclining, full of food and love because Santana's being completely sweet on Brittany tonight.

When Santana moves to shakily lift her hand again, waving over dessert, Brittany actually groans and shakes her head.

"San, no," she breathes, leaning back in her chair, "I don't think I can eat anymore."

Santana's eyes widen more than Brittany expected and she scrambles to fix whatever wrong she's suddenly caused, "Not that I wouldn't _like _to have what you've prepared but, you know, I'm about to burst open over here."

"But..." Santana says, feeling her heart drop, "...it's dessert. There's always room for dessert."

Julian sits their bowls down, both dishes filled to the brim with wispy, airy, pink folds of sugar, peppermint sticks sticking out of them.

Cotton candy.

He gives Santana a look that she completely misses, panicking like she is.

"Normally, I'd agree," Brittany nods, eyeing her bowl appreciatively, "And this does look great but, I mean, I don't want to puke on our date night," she murmurs, bringing her eyes up to meet Santana's.

Santana, for her part, is completely falling apart. Her breathing is picking up and she's starting to wonder if it'd be at all appropriate to force feed Brittany her dessert.

"But, maybe I could stomach a little more?" Brittany offers, reading her girlfriend's behavior.  
"Yes," Santana breathes, nearly sagging with relief, "Just a little bit."

"Jeez," Brittany says, forgoing her spoon and digging into the sugary dollop with her fingers, "You really want me to eat this stuff. What? Is there a ring hiding in here or something?" Brittany jokes, pinching a piece free.

Santana chokes on her tongue.

"What?" she squeaks, managing a shaky laugh. "There's no r-ring," she stutters and Brittany drops the clump of candy.

"Santana," she starts lowly, seriously, "Is there a ring in here...or something?"

"...I...I, uh..."

"Oh my Unicorn it is," Brittany exclaims through a gasp, staring in disbelief at Santana's stricken face, "There's a ring in here? An actual ring?"

Santana closes her mouth, her eyes suddenly blinking entirely too much as she nods her confirmation.

Brittany gasps, foregoing decorum and digging through the candy until she finally sees it, a simple white gold band with a startling, sparkling diamond set dead center. It sits there at the bottom of the bowl, and Santana can see it reflected in her eyes.

"It's so pretty," Brittany whispers, reaching for it but pausing midway, lifting her eyes to again seek out Santana's. "Did you want to say something?"

Santana has gone mute.

And blank and dumb and speechless and possibly deaf, like, she's completely useless right now.

And the restaurant guests around her are still talking although now their hushed whispers seem laced with a little bit more excitement, and her wait crew is standing behind the bar with Bruno and Danielle, and Brittany's staring at her, waiting with a heaving chest and bright, expectant eyes.

Santana's mouth drops open and she croaks inelegantly until a hearty bump sends her flying forward a couple of inches, a defiantly unrepentant Julian walking by.

She glares daggers after him but he just fist bumps his chest, mouthing at her to _Man up_.

And aside from Sam, and possibly Puck sometimes, she's never hated and loved a man at the same time more.

"Yes," Santana says, shakily pushing away from the table and taking the two steps it takes to reach Brittany's side. She reaches inside the bowl with her left hand, trembling tremendously.

Slowly, steadily, she manages to lower herself to one knee, reaching for Brittany's left hand which her girlfriend so graciously offers, trembling herself.

"Um," Santana starts, swallowing thickly. Her eyes dart all around the room, going from face to face so fast that she gets a little dizzy, but then Brittany's reaching out for her with her free hand, cradling her face gently and stroking her cheek softly with her thumb, drawing Santana's attention back to her - solely to her.

"Brittany," she tries again, determination written all over her face, "I've loved you in one way or another since I've known you. It's like, the only way I know how to be. And, Britt, you make me so happy. Like, just the other day, after, you know," Santana trails off, looking around discreetly before lowering her voice momentarily, "seven times in one night, Bruno was wondering why I was smiling like the cat that ate the canary, and Luc kept talking about 'fat back' or whatever, and all I could think about, even though I love working here, is how much I wanted the say to speed by just so that I could hurry home to you. And I know I'm not perfect. I watch reality TV and I have a quick temper and I cry over fictional characters far too easily but I'll try my best to be as close to perfect for you. And I'll do my best to make sure that you never want for anything. I want to spend my life with you, Britt, as your wife. I want to build a future for us together. I want to raise a family together. I want to help make your dreams come true. I want to...I want to be your _person_, Britt - and I know you get that because you're _obsessed_ with _Grey's_. But none of that can happen unless you say yes to the question I'm about to ask you so..."

Santana takes Brittany's left hand in her right, her left hand steadying the ring just below the tip of Brittany's ring finger and she swallows again, not from nervousness this time, but from the sheer intensity of the love she sees shining in Brittany's eyes.

"...Brittany Susan Pierce, will you marry me?"

Brittany smiles, her glistening eyes sparkling like glitter. "Yes," she gasps out, her chest tight and Santana slides the ring on her finger, nothing outside of Brittany registering, even as the crowd around them erupts in applause and Luc lets out a holler and a boisterous _Laissez Le Bon Temps Rouler_! She sees and hears none of that because nothing is as important as the look of pure adoration that's on Brittany's face right now, or the way she's leaning in, speaking a little louder than proximity dictates because of the raucous crowd.

"But, just so you know, I was totally going to ask you tomorrow."


End file.
